


I Know So Many Less Lucky Than I

by orphan_account



Series: God Help the Outcasts [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Cutting, M/M, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John confronts Dean about the angel in the bedroom, which leads to serious events</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know So Many Less Lucky Than I

**Author's Note:**

> oh god I love you all so much, thank you for dealing with my writing.....I feel like I'm writing a novel here.....a really gay novel

Castiel was just an angel three days ago—three days ago he was sitting up in Heaven with Gabriel and Balthazar and sometimes Uriel. Now, he was stuck in a motel parking lot with two lonely little boys, who were desperate to be more. What happened earlier didn't change who Dean was, it didn't make him more of a man nor did it make him different in Castiel's eyes. What did however, was the way Dean was holding Sam now, whispering little pick-me-ups in his ear. It reminded the angel that he wasn't just some hunter who needed saving, he wasn't some teenager who needed help, he was a brother, he was a son, who needed someone to hold him the way he held everyone else. 

Castiel didn't know if John was still unconscious or not, but he knew that he didn't want to wait around. He watched the two Winchesters, feeling his wings puff up behind him in the shadows. Though at the moment, he just wanted to go back to that amazing feeling of Dean holding him down, and tying him up. If anyone in Heaven ever found about that....there'd be hell to pay. He knew that Dean was technically Micheal’s plaything, and if anyone touched him, Micheal would go running to daddy. It was the same thing with Sam, belonging completely to Lucifer. No angel could touch him at all. Gabriel thought that the entire Micheal, Lucifer thing was stupid, and had been trying to find the boys for years. Hopefully, he'd never succeed. 

“Cas, you okay?” Dean barked suddenly, standing directly in front of the angel. The distance between the two of them was achingly close, and if they were anywhere but earth, Cas could grab Dean with his wings, and pull the hunter to him until Dean was on top of him once again. 

“I'm fine, Dean. How is Sam?” 

Dean glanced back at his little brother, still sitting on the wet pavement. “I'm worried 'bout him. Hell, I'm always worried 'bout him, but this time...I dunno know Cas.” The older Winchester breathed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “And when my dad wakes up....”

Cas watched the hunter's eyes drop, searching for an answer he didn't know. “Dean, I think it would be best if you and Sam left your father.”

The brunette's eyes instantly snapped up, widened in surprise. “Wha—what're you sayin', Cas? You sayin' I should take Sammy and what? Walk off into the sunset? You know what? My dad may be a dick, he may be a jackass, but he's a hell of a hunter, and he's the only parent me and Sammy got left. I wouldn't imagine you to understand somethin' like that.” Dean began to walk off, grabbing Sam under his arm, and leading them both back into the hotel room, slamming the door in the angel's face. 

________________

In Heaven, Castiel was a good child—the perfect child. He followed orders, he obeyed his father, and he respected all humans. Until he was given this mission, it was nothing out of the ordinary of what he usually did, saving people and helping them. But there was one difference. Dean Winchester. Falling in love with a human was banned, there were horrible stories of angels who fell for humans, and their grace was bottled and taken away from them. Nevertheless, there was something Castiel loved about laying with the hunter, both of their bodies on display and vulnerable to one another. He loved the way his voice would get caught in his throat whenever he saw Dean. He loved the way Dean looked at him, and made him feel loved. Now, all of that was hanging in the balance. If Cas let John near Dean, he'd be hurt, but if he took Dean from John everyone would get hurt. There was no answer, which bugged the angel more than anything. He just wanted to help. He despised the idea of watching Sam and Dean getting constantly injured while he himself watched helplessly from the sidelines. The thought killed him.   
__________________

Dean sat on his bed, hitting his head against the wooden headboard over and over again until it stopped hurting. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be with Cas, and when he finally got what he wanted, he went back and stabbed the angel in the back. After everything he had wished for in the car, just to throw it all away in less than a day. No wonder his life was shit—as soon as something good happened he'd take it for granted. Castiel was an angel, not an all knowledgeable human being. He didn't know anything better to do than to help. Hell, if Dean knew any better, he'd say that the only reason Cas fucked him at all, was because he thought it was helping. 

“Dean? Dad's in his room now, he wants to talk with you.” Sam muttered, quietly sitting beside his brother. “He's not happy.”

Dean creased his eyebrows, grabbing hold of Sam's arm, pointing at a fresh, dull purple spot. “What the hell is this?”

“Dad's not happy.” Sam simply replied, before heading over to his bed to gorge himself in the newest book he borrowed from some state library. 

Dean sighed, watching his brother with worried eyes and a pained expression. He hated his dad for doing this, for forcing them into a life of hiding behind tears. A year or two ago, John would yell at most, but he would never even think about hitting either one of his sons. Now, it was all he ever did it seemed. “You shouldn't let him hit you like that, y'know.” He smiled softly, as he left the room, pausing in front of the open door to John's. “Dad?” He asked, his voice suddenly rising about an octave.

John said nothing, as he stood by the far corner of the room, cleaning out his '45. He merely grunted, and Dean invited himself in, not daring to get within five feet of him. 

“Listen, about today. I was just—” He stopped, thinking over exactly what he wanted to say. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to explain the situation.

Finally, John turned around, the '45 still in his hand. “Your boyfriend threw me across the room, Dean. Let's start there. I personally could not give a rat's ass about your sex life, unless you find yourself inside of some demon, or pagan god. What the hell was that thing? In all the eleven years I've been hunting, since before your brother was even one, I had never seen somethin' so powerful as to throw me across the room, with his mind. You wanna tell me it was some telekinetic guy? That's fine, though I'll know you're lyin' to me, and I don't trust liars. Telekinetics have yet to move a grown man. I wanna know who you're meetin' up with after hours, and I wanna know what he is, and I wanna know now.” 

Dean laughed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Dean have you looked at our lives? I don't think you're in position to say somethin' like that.”

“He's an angel, dad.”

John held back the urge to laugh, setting the gun down at last. “An angel? Have you been listenin' to your brother again? I told him not to talk about god, or heaven, or godforsaken angels. I would've thought he'd learn that by now.” The two looked at each other, neither of them saying anything. Dean's jawbones clenched, along with his fists, which he tried to keep at his side. “I want you to go back to your room now, Dean. I'll be gone by tomorrow mornin', don't expect me back for few days. Bobby's got a werewolf on the run. I don't wanna see that kid back in here, whatever the hell he is. In a week, he'll be crawlin back into the whole he spawned from. An' that's the end of it.” He snapped. 

Dean didn't bother fighting, he was tired enough for one day, and frankly, he was tired of having the same goddamn argument over and over again. What was the point? Instead, he just shrugged and slammed his bedroom door shut, waking Sam up from his sleep.

“Dean?” Sam moaned in a thick voice, “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, peachy.” He snapped, as he opened his suitcase digging around for his razors. He searched in every pocket, until his finger brushed up against the familiar thin metal. Earnestly, he started for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He quickly turned on the shower head, to block over the sounds of himself. He let his clothes fall to the floor, as he ducked into the bathtub, settling into a corner and holding his arm out to reveal his already fading scars. He steadied his hand above them, and then suddenly cut down. He let his hand move up and down, side to side, until his entire forearm was gushing red, until he finally stopped, watching over the damage. Blood flowed through the water, colouring it red, as it swirled around the drain over and over again. He took pride in his scars, he took pride in the blood, the pain. But most of all, he took pride in the fact that he lived another day. Until he noticed the the scarlet line crossing over his main wrist vein. 

“Shit,” He muttered to himself, reaching around the curtain for a roll of toilet paper, watching in distress as the water soaked through it. The blood from his wrist flowed like a faucet and in despair he held his hand over it, until the crimson liquid broke through. 

And then it was over.


End file.
